WTC
by Arkson Colegrad
Summary: Jack Ryan in the world of September 11th, put in a time - frame. More chapters soon!!!


WTC  
  
  
  
A note: This story is fictional. Although the backdrop is the events of September 11, 2001, the events, for the most part, are not true, and the order of time is story is altered from the real events to expand the plot. Also, this is purely a fan fiction short, and I am in no way associated with Tom Clancy.  
  
  
  
Prologue:  
Early Morning:  
  
  
  
The first minutes of morning burst through the clouds of September 11. To those heading to their jobs or school, it was just another day: few clouds, bland weather and no wind. They did not know that this would be a day like no other...  
  
5: 59 am:   
In his apartment, Muhammad Atta looked out of the window, thinking about his day's plans.  
  
  
5:59 am:   
In lower Manhattan, the First Lady's family was driven towards the World Trade center, the children fighting in the back seat.  
  
  
5:59 am:   
In New York City, Officer Terrence Lyka drove towards his workplace at the New York Police Station.  
  
  
5:59 am:   
In upper Manhattan, CIA officers Clark and Chavez walked on the sidewalk, and randomly picked a restaurant to inspect.   
  
  
5:59 am:   
In a suburb of Washington, DC, a very important man and his 13- year old son were driven to a middle school.  
  
  
Many feet above the ground...  
  
  
6:00 am:   
Jack Ryan stared out the window of Air Force One, and sighed. He had been woken at 5:00 am, and reminded that he had to go to Florida on a campaign. This made little sense to Ryan, seeing as he wasn't even sure if he wanted to be in the primaries, which would be in a few months.   
It seemed like it was going to be a long, dull day. His wife was going to a meeting in New York, and the Vice President was taking some time off. Jack yawned, and decided that he should get some sleep before they landed.  
He woke to the sound of landing gear, and the "President's Plane" bumped as it landed on the runway. Jack shot up with a shock; he had been dreaming of the helicopter accident that had happened to him while he had been in the Marines. One of the pilots turned around in his seat, and spoke.  
" Scared ya, didn't it?"  
"I'm.. I'm fine." It seemed so real, he thought.  
"All right. We'll be out in a moment." Jack unbuckled, and waited for his entourage to awaken ; obviously he had not been the only person who had been sleeping  
" Change of plans, Jack. You're going to school." This came from Scott Alder, his Chief of Staff.  
"Why?"  
"The campaigning thing won't happen until tomorrow. Anyway, doesn't it sound better?" He smiled, and Jack shrugged. The two walked towards the airport, Jack waving as he came off the plane.  
  
  
  
6:04 am:   
"Why do we have to go in that place it's too big", Katie Ryan said, then was backed up by her older brother.  
"Yeah, come on! Russell wouldn't mind hanging with us", Jack Jr. said. Don Russell was a senior agent of the service who loved children, and was not afraid to say so.  
"No. It'll be fun." Yeah right, Dr. Cathy Ryan thought to herself. She remember herself that she had done similar things to this as little as five years ago, but that seemed like lifetimes ago.  
"I don't care what you say Mom, I still think it's boring. "  
"Come on, Jack, it's the Twin Towers. " She was going there, with a group of other doctors at Hopkins, were coming to the World Trade center to discuss financial matters. Trying to gain insight into stock or purchasing, Cathy thought to herself. She really didn't care.   
She had never been to Manhattan before, and although it was over crowded, it was enjoyable. The three Ryan children, talking and arguing among themselves, had decided to "let" Mom force them into the second of the two towering Towers.  
"Okay, we'll go in. " Cathy almost laughed at this, knowing that they had no real choice. She nodded to the Detail inside the stretch Mercedes with her, three altogether, and they informed the twenty-two Service agents, a "heads-up", as the family moved towards the building.   
  
  
6:06 am:  
Wesker Morrison pushed open the door .It was a double-door made out of heavy steel and it slammed behind him. He tried to find his way to the school's office . He stepped into the room with nervousness .He was with his father, Albert, who was escorted by the usual Secret Service agents. Today would be his first day of school in weeks.. He was here for a tour, to "get his grounding" of the school before the day began. He already disliked his new school. Someone approached the group.  
"You are...", oh my God, VP Morrison?", she quickly searched the notepad in her hand. "I guess I didn't look this over. This is your son?"  
"Yes."  
"Oh... great! I'm sure you'll love it here at Stoneston Middle School!" Wes held in a sigh.  
"Mr. Vice President", she turned her attention to the father, "we need you to fill out a few forms, if those men will allow it." She glanced at the agent to Mr. Morrison's left, and he nodded. Albert gave Wesker a quick glance, showing what he already knew. His father hated paperwork, which wasn't a good thing to hate in his line of work.  
  
  
6:10 am:  
"What the fuck?", Chavez exclaimed as he took the first bite out of the ham sandwich, "This has f 'ing mayo on it!." Even before he realized that John T. Clark- Kelly would punch him for drawing attention, he felt guilty. Plus, of course, he knew that he had blown their cover.   
"Care to head to the restroom, my friend?", John asked Ding, quietly and in German, hoping that all they had done in the past two weeks hadn't all gone to waste. Clark saw that while Chavez was attempting to hide his emotions, John could clearly see that Ding felt like a rookie. And you still are, "Mr. C" thought to himself. Without drawing any more attention, the CIA field officers headed to the rest rooms, which were conveniently in Chinese ( Damn it!, both thought to themselves), the only real language written in public places, in this area. The two partner's covers were that they were German reporters. How were they going to solve an epidemic in one of New York's many Chinatowns? The virus was supposedly a hybrid form of food-poisoning. Many things of the sort were happening, so it was good cover. This virus was rumored to be lethal, and the two secretly feared that it was a biological weapon, and Anthrax was on the top of their lists. To the fear of the two "spies", this sort of weapon was cheap and easy to get. It could be treated easily, but many died before they knew what exactly was happening. In large amounts, obviously, it meant a larger death count.  
To prepare for this mission, both had been orally taught basic Chinese, slang included. This had taken almost three months. On the other hand, the German, so similar to Russian and other European languages, had taken a much shorter period of time. Although, the two could read Chinese about as well as they could talk shopping at a beauty parlor,. He guessed as to which one was Men's and almost nicely pushed Chafes into it.  
"What were you thinking, Ding?", John asked, really not caring if the room was tapped. Out of habit, he turned the water on.  
" I don't know, Mr.C. That Mayo shit makes me blow chunks like nothin' else."  
"Still a solider, right?", John asked with a smile.  
"Right on, mano'."  
"Ding", Clark sighed, "You screwed up, blew our cover. This Anthrax thing isn't really going anywhere, but... don't make that mistake again."  
"Still a rookie'." Domingo R. Chavez unknowingly relaying his partner's thoughts.  
"You'll learn. Let's head uptown."  
"Why?"  
"Because of the security stuff, we'll have to move her out of here. We don't need to rush, though." And with that, John Terrence Kelly and Domingo Rico Chavez left the bathroom.  
  
  
  
6:15 am:   
He loved children, especially the very young ones. What he probably enjoyed the most,President Jack Ryan reflected, was the ability to actually act like a teacher again, which had not happened in quite some time. He was in Miami, Florida, listening to a class read papers they had written about him, the First Lady, and the White House. They were terribly inaccurate, but Ryan didn't care the least bit. There were only six more to go, a fact that almost made the President sad. These children were unbiased, not really opinionated, and had uncanny insight into Jack's emotional state, a quality that many adults did not have. Another child had finished his report, and the child next to him stood up.   
"If I could live in the White House, I..." President Ryan looked over to Special Agent Andrea Price, his bodyguard, and saw a smile on her face.  
"These kids are more truthful that most politicians, Mr. President." That statement was very true, and Ryan nodded in response.  
"I'll agree with you, as long as you don't tell CNN about it." They both smiled.  
"Only if you fire me, Mr. President."   
"Or if some bastard tried to get kill my family." Jack made such remarks about assassinations often, although he knew that he had a tendency to step on toes, per se, wherever he went. After all, he had to have a sense of humor about it. It had happened to his family twice before. Ryan looked down at his watch which said that the time was 6:15. "Or,-Jack elaborated- "if someone tries to kill me.  
He did not know, for the moment, the bitter irony in his last remark, as the children continued reading their reports:  
"The President should have a pet. I have two doggies, they're names are Scruffy and Speedy, they're good doggies..."  
  
  
  
  
6:16 am:   
Terrence Lyka was a chief in the New York Police Department. He knew that it was a terrible job with terrible pay, but he knew that patrolling NYC was what he was born to do.  
He really didn't want to be a chief. All the other chiefs were cocky and self- absorbed, the last thing Terrence wanted to be. At that moment, he heard a knock on his office door.  
"Come in." A good friend, entered. Thomas Slus. He was what kept Terrence grounded.  
"Hey. You workin' on the Robins case?" Larry Robins was a pickpocket turned killer-for-hire, and although he wasn't exceptionally good at his trade, he had absolutely no fear of being caught. People of this nature scare all men with a badge, but Robins was even more sinister.  
"No, but I got to get around to that. How you been holding up?" Tom had recently lost his wife from cancer, and had just a few days ago returned to the force.   
"It's been a tough ride. I don't know if..." Tom's eyes started to ball up, and it was obvious that he was on the verge of tears. Tom decided that it would be best if he changed the subject.  
"All right, take care of yourself. Until then, take some time off."   
"No, I uh... I need to build up the case on Robins!" It was obvious to Terrence that Tom was investing all of his working hours, and he didn't like it.  
"Tom, you gotta take a break from all of this." Officer Lyka gestured to the walls of his office, covered with mug shots of prison convicts.  
"All right. I could use a few days."  
"Don't mention it." Tom left his office, and Terrence smiled to himself. Thomas really did hate time off.   
  
  
  
6:38 am:  
At the breakfast table, Wes's father seemed to enjoy the chance to watch his son go to school, for a change. Wes had a brother, Timmy, but he was not yet old enough to attended school, even pre-kindergarten.   
"I hope you have fun at school", his father teased.  
The coffee machine had broken the night before, and Mr. Morrison hadn't felt so tired in a long time. He knew that Jack Ryan, his boss and President, picked up on that easily, so he tried to hide his sleepiness.  
"Dad? Can I grab some coffee on the way to school?" His dad looked at George Winser, his chief bodyguard.  
"That could be arranged, HOMEWORKHATER." Wesker smiled at the use of his code-name.  
"Dad... could you drive me to school?" It was a pointless question.  
"Yeah, hold your horses." Agent Winser shook his head, and Albert Wesker sighed.  
"I'll ride with you to school, though." Wes rolled his eyes.   
  
  
6:40 am:  
The only thing that made the Pentagon buildings different from other government buildings was it's shape. It was an old building, and in need of a make over. The only real improvment made in the past five years was a "fire- proof" system, which was still in the works. He drove up to Pierce Blake, the guard, and was waved him in. Robert loved his job. Well... he loved his desk job as much as a former fighter pilot could. One thing that bothered him was that he was one of only a few dozen blacks working here, and hated being looked at as the token one. He also knew that some of the big shots had tried to get him fired. He was here because in 1993, ex- President Victor Bennet had put him there. The world was a different place now, and the older and wiser Robby was less enthusiastic.   
As Bobby walked into his office, he pushed back on his chair and stretched. He knew that today was going to be a long day.  
  
  
6:44 am:  
Ezekiel Thames woke up screaming. The nightmares had come back fully, the tidal waves, the corpses, and the zombies. His nightmares were real.   
He had been having those dreams for over a week, and he could not get the pictures out of his mind. It had been two years since his hometown had been demolished, killing most of the town. Only 47 others had survived, but now almost all dead, killed by a virus that turns you into a skeleton of your former self.  
He turned on the television, and watched live coverage of Jack Ryan at a Florida school. Zeke smiled to himself, he still had trouble believing that his friend was President of the most powerful country in the world. In Thame's opinion, Jack was still a CIA spook, a top-government spy, a title that made you "sound like James Bond and feel like shit", Ryan had apity noted. . Ezekiel felt tired again, and decided to go back to sleep. He did not know that he would wake up in a completely different world.  
  
  
6:50 am:  
There was a nineteen-inch pile of papers in front of him. He was an authority on airline security. each day he realized that this was the closest he could get to strapping into a fighter jet. Every day in his working week Robert Jackson had to check over dozens of documents, their focus on security qualifications, x-ray machine upgrades, and things of that sort.  
He decided to call Ryan. Jackson was pushing a bill forcing security to be all federal, not privately owned and operated, and was trying to get it supported by some senators that were "friends" of his, a thing that wasn't ever true in Washington.   
On second thought, he decided against making the call. He decided instead to call John Hopkins hospital, where the First Lady worked. She was not there. He was confused by this, but didn't worry. Cathy Ryan was the busiest First Lady of all 43 in history.  
  
  
6:54 am:  
Scores of people were involved in this operation. The cowards were afraid, the noble dignified, and the rest without any real care about their fate. For all, this was a deed for the great Allah, the sacrifice of their lives a small and trivial thing. A man by the name of Muhammad Atta was the leader of the group, and had entered the airport along with two others. They passed through customs with ease, none of the security noticed or cared that all three had box-cutter knives, surrounded as they were with other items. Each made a silent pleage to Allah before they entered the aircraft, starting his mental preparation.  
  
  
6:55 am:  
Officer Thomas Slus was trying to sleep in his living room. He had been suffering through stomach cramps all day. He had had cramps before, but today it felt worse than any other time Thomas could remember. It was a struggle to reach the phone.  
"Hello?", he asked. He was used to having people call him up in the middle of the night.  
"Yes. Are you Officer Lyka's partner?"  
"Yeah. What do you want?!" Tom tried not to be rude, but he was in a good deal of pain.  
"I know I am calling you late, but I need you to tell you partner has to take a break. His vacation days have to be used soon, or we'll just get rid of all three months of them. That will take a while to build back up. Tell him to lay off for a few days. we've already picked out a nice hotel suite in 'Hampshire." The caller laughed to himself at this last statement.  
'He won't wanna hear it, but I'll tell him."  
"All right, thanks. Good-bye."  
" 'Bye."   
Roger turned off the power to his parent's phone, and laughed to himself.  
  
  
  
  
  
6: 59 am:  
Roger B. Stanley thought it was all a joke. He wasn't going to school, and some guy had called him. He came to Roger's house.  
" I need to ask you a favor."  
"Like what?"  
" I am with the Secret Service", he flashed his badge, "and we need you to do a test for us."  
"What is it?"  
"Later today, we're going to conduct a test on our security of Wesker Morrison, the Vice President's son."  
"What would I do?" He was excited now.  
" We will give you a firearm that shoots blanks. You'll wait in the hall. On our signal, you'll shoot the gun at Morrison. That will startle his guards, and they'll come to you. We'll time them, too."  
"What if they shoot me?"  
"They won't. They've been told that something will happen today, but not what."  
"Sounds cool." That was Roger's biggest mistake.  
  
  
7:19 am:  
Cars swerrved past him, and he tried to catch the faces of all who drove by him. He was stuck in traffic, and this was one, just one of the things he did to keep himself occupied. Then, Albert finally drove out of the grid-lock. He was thinking about two basic thoughts as he drove past the railroad tracks, a clear sign that they were indeed moving closer to the school. He, in a way, felt bad for his son. This one of the basic thoughts. The other one was a story he was currently working on. He had never really considered himself a writer, but was inspired after reading a bibliography on the great author Ernest Hemmingway. His story was called "A Celebration of Life", and was, in short, about an elderly friend of his and his son's, who had recently turned 100 years old. Albert didn't know this, but is son was extremely happy about him doing more things now . Wes and Albert never spoke on the long drive to school.  
  
  
7:45 am:  
Wes's first day was terrible. He stood stupidly in the hall, trying to find his way to the area where he would be. He "discovered" the cafeteria, and followed the crowd to the 8th Grade wing. He noticed, as he tried to find his way to his homeroom, that many people recognized him, and he blushed. It did not help that he was making the difficult transition from private to public school. As Wes Morrison entered his homeroom, he was immediately met with staring, studying eyes. He felt that he was the center of attention, and as quickly as he could, found an empty chair to sit. There was obnoxious chatter, mainly consisting of the recent music awards, and clothing. Also, he heard the whispers of people asking one another, "Is he who I think he is?" This always gave Wes the impression that he was in a room with people much less secure of themselves than he was. It was not fair, but it was, in part, true.   
"All right, listen up.", the teacher said sternly. "My name is Mrs. Peacock. This is study hall. The schedule is...", she paused, "easy today, hard tomorrow." This was followed by a laugh.. Wesker groaned, and everyone in the room turned to look at him.  
I really screwed that one up.   
  
  
8:20 am:  
His mind was racing. In theory this was easy to do, but nevertheless Roger was tense. He had the gun that fired "blanks", and he walked towards the pre- determined stairwell. All he had to do now was wait.  
  
  
  
8:23 am:  
Wes had been bored all day. He didn't like school spirit day because it gave the jocks an excuse to bully others around. At least he had Roger, who he had met in the hall, on his side. Over the intercom it said that everyone should head to auditorium in an orderly fashion, and everyone jumped up.  
As Wesker entered the staircase with his class, he saw Roger standing there.  
"Hey."  
"Don't be scared. This is just a test." Roger pulled the gun out of his backpack, and fired once at Wes. It blew his head apart, and blood sqirted everywhere.  
"What? Oh My God!!!" He started to cry, because he was frightened, and because he had done something wrong. At that moment, the Secret Service ran in, and Roger B. Stanley welcomed the bullets.  
  
  
  
8:25 am:  
Mr. Morrison was driving as fast as he could. The school had called him frantically saying that his son had been shot, and he was driving to the hospital at over 60 mph. It was still very confusing.  
"What in the hell is going on?", Albert asked himself. He never got the answer to that question.  
Out of nowhere, a large black van swerved off a back street, and he saw it coming towards him. The van hit the car with a loud BANG!, and Albert was killed instantly.   
  
  
  
8:27 am:  
Camp david is located near Smithsburgh, Maryland. Surrounded by large hills, the citizens of Smithsburgh are often annoyed by the noise of F - 15 jets flying over their homes. This was especially true when the President came into the area. Today it was worse than usual. In Baltimore...  
Ezekiel Thames had been sleeping for most of the morning. He was, at the age of 42, retired, although he had done enough in his lifetime to fill 10 others. He usually woke at ten-thirty, so the phone bell ringing in his ear startled him.   
"Yeah?"  
"Zeke?"  
"What the hell? Jack, it's you. What's up?"  
"Morrison's dead." He heard his friend (they had been so since the years of college over twenty years before) move away from the receiver, then growl and slightly whimper in a way that a man only did when a close friend had died.  
"Jack, what's going on, for Christ's sake?", Zeke persisted.  
"I'll tell you where you get here."  
"The... the White House?"  
"No, Camp David. It's closer to you, anyway. I need you to be Vice President, at least until things get straightened out."   
"Ryan, that's what Roger Durling said to you, right before he got killed..." Durling had been the president before Jack Ryan. When Jack had agreed to be V.P., five minutes later he had become president when a plane had crashed into the Capitol building.  
"OK, I know how you feel, but you're the one I need right now."  
"What about the Secretary of Defense?"  
"I'm not dead, Zeke." Jack actually smiled. There was a chain of command as to who became president, and it said if the V.P. died in office, the president could choose a temporary one.   
"Then what about the SecState, or the Speaker of the House", pleaded Zeke. This was the last thingh that he wanted to do.  
"Zeke, we're in a crisis, and I won't play games. I want Robby Jackson as my Vice President, you know that. He's busy, and I need a one- day V.P."  
"Thanks for making me feel all warm inside, Jack." Thames said just to lighten the mood.  
"Be here in fifteen minutes. Hurry, we think that something's going to happen in New York."  
"Like what?"  
"We have an idea, but it's damned vague. Is this line secure."  
"No, I haven't bothered. I'll be there in 15."  
"I'll get a jet to fly in. Zeke, your back lawn still big?"  
"You serious?"  
"Yeah." Zeke's day started then.  
  
  
  
8: 34 am:  
By now, the child should be dead, along with his killer. The Vice president's son should be dead, along with his killer. IT had just been confirmed to him that the Vice President had been killed in a "car accident." Usama Bin Laden chuckled, and thought about the mother. She would die, too. He felt no pity for her, she was like all other Americans. This would be a major step towards the collapse of America, and the rise of his group.  
  
  
  
8:42 am:  
The knives were sharp, they had been polishing them for almost an hour, the night before. With a signal to the others, Atta and his "team" slowly reached for their traveling bags, and no one paid any attention to their actions. Quietly, each pulled out the box-cutters, and hid them under their seats...   
"Sir, you have to remain seated ."  
"Shut up, woman." Before the stewardess could respond, the Afghan Taliban solider slid the knife's blade across her neck. She gurgled, and blood rushed out of the wound. Many people gasped, and two men got up to help. They failed.  
The hijackers chose against moving the bodies, leaving them as reminders to the others. He turned to face his captured audience.  
"Be calm. This is hijacking. Do not attempt to stop us!."   
"You bastard!", one yelled. The terrorist motioned to one of his colleagues, who quickly slashed the passenger's face.  
"If you speak, you will be punished. If you are quiet, we will kill no more." This caused a lot of murmuring among the passengers, Next, Muhammad Atta went to the cockpit, where the pilot and co-pilot were dead. He pushed them aside. As the bodies fell to the floor, Atta quickly slid into the vacated pilot's chair.  
  
  
8:54 am:  
The plane flew onto the South Lawn, and Thames got out. He looked around, and a persom guided him to the White House's Front Entrance. The preist ran up on the spot.  
  
  
  
  
  
He walked up to Ryan.  
" Two questions; Jack, Ryan or Mr. President, and... am I dreaming?" Jack smiled.  
" For the first, Jack or Ryan, I don't care about names. For the second, I'm afraid not. Let's get to work."  
  
  
8:56 am:  
Terrence had no clue as to why he was in New Hampshire. His partner Slus had told him, but it was just that something wasn't right... he decided to call Tom.  
"Hey Tom, what's up?"  
"Not much, but it's 2 in the morning. What's going on?"   
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was just wonderin'... who made that call to you?"  
"What call?"  
"The guy that called you to give me time off."  
"Oh, yeah. Hold on." Officer Slus got up, and checked the Caller ID He raced back to the phone.  
"Terr, get up here quick!"  
"Why?"  
"Something really bad is going down. It was a prank, and I think that the caller was trying to get you away from the Towers."   
"Why?"  
"We've gotten a confirmed terrorist threat from Washington."  
"I'll be there in an hour!" Terrence Lyka was the head NYPD officer at the first Tower.  
  
  
  
9:11 am:  
Maria, the mother of Wesker Morrison, got up to the sound of her alarm clock. She missed her son very much, but she knew that she had to be at her new job. That's when the call came.  
"Maria. It's about Wes..." After the doctor finished, Maria sat down and cried. She called her work, and told them that she would not be in for a while.  
  
  
  
9: 21 am (and 17 seconds):  
Tom Steward was one of the many USSS agents in the World Trade Center's facility, looking over at all areas, searching for suspicious persons. This location put all of the agents on edge, mainly because of the bomb that had damaged one of the towers eight years before. At this moment, Special Agent Steward was directly across from the two towers, sipping a coffee which he had gotten from a nice shop two stores down. Another agent approached him, two doughnuts in his right hand.  
"Want one? They don't look lethal", the agent said laughing.  
"I doubt it. All food in NYC is." At that moment, he heard a drowning noise, not deafening, but very loud. Sounded almost like...  
"Hey man, does that sound like an airplane to you?" The other turned to Steward, horror in his face. Before he spoke to his fellow agent, he screamed into the mini-microphone on his suit collar:  
"Get SURGEON"-Cathy Ryan's Codename- "moving, NOW!!! now,now,now!!!"  
  
  
9: 21 am (and 47 seconds):  
She heard the plane fly over her apartment, and knew that something was wrong. It was flying to low. Maria Morrison looked down, and saw other people looking up at the sky. Then she saw where it was heading.  
"Oh my God..."  
  
  
  
9:22 am (and 9 seconds):  
Both of the Twin Towers were sturdy. Although they were both 100+ stories in height, they were one of the sturdiest things ever built. Actually, as part of it's testing, a 707 jetliners were slammed into both of the buildings, and they wistood the impact. Unfortunately, no building could take two newer jets, filled with fuel. The two planes dove, as instructed, towards the base of the building. The two separate hijackers gave a brief prayer, and ripped their shirts open, letting Allah seep into their souls. The airliners screeched towards the giants towers, onlookers gasping in disbelief.  
  
  
  
9:22 am (and 14 seconds) The President's wife wasn't anywhere near the windows when the plane first approached. He heard a few people gasp, and her security detail ran into the room, picked her up, yelling to the others to get out of the building!  
"Mrs. Ryan, we have to get you to a secure location." Everything was a blur of events to her. She managed to say:  
"What's going on?" The agent did not answer, only whisked her down the fire exit.  
"Where are my kids?"  
"Already out, and being moved away from here." Then it dawned on him that she had no idea of what was going on.  
"Why? Oh my God, is there another bomb?"  
"No, a plane. We gotta go." The agent decided not to look into his "principal"'s face, and concentrated.  
They were on the 4th floor now, although he was still on instincts. That's when he heard it, a deafening noise, the noise of a passenger airliner closing in on it's target.  
"Oh shit, they're gonna ram right into us..."  
  
  
9:22 am (and 44 seconds):  
Chavez was closer to the building, and he heard the engine noise, and saw the airplane go over him, and it looked as though the airliner would fall right on him.  
"Holy shit!" He hadn't realized where it was heading.  
Clark was farther away, and did not hear the engine noises, All he heard was the explosion, and a second, even louder burst as the jet fuel exploded into flames. Of course, he didn't know that. His first thoughts: Bomb, Bomb,Bomb,Bomb, Bomb, Bomb!!! He looked around the area, quickly assessing the explosion. Then he looked up the two Towers.  
"What the?"... That's when he saw the Towers start to teeter and billow large clouds of grayish black smoke.  
  
  
  
9:23 am:  
"Did everyone get out?", Cathy Ryan asked, still dazed.  
"Dr. Ryan, we have to move. The buildings are not stable. We HAVE to move out!!!"  
"Fall, you mean...?" She looked towards the buildings .  
  
  
9:25 am:  
"What is it, Price?", President Ryan asked. As much as it bothered him, he knew that he needed a cigarette. It had been his vice for years, and Jack wondered if Cathy had figured out yet.  
"Mr. President, we have to move." The TV cameras were on, and through the glaring lights he could see that the children were being moved out of the classroom.  
"What's going on?", Jack asked, although Ryan was already afraid of the answer.  
"Jack-Mr. President-,a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center." She wondered why a degree of confusion and disbelief was on his face.  
"Manhattan... Cathy's in Manhattan!" Panic was clearly blasting through his usual calmness, so Price tried to sound reassuring.  
"Don't worry Mr. President, she is at the Sears Tower...Huh? Sears, Twin... oh shit." At that point, Scott Andler, Jack's Secretary of State ran into the room.  
"How did that screw- up happen?"  
"I don't know."  
"Sir, we have more news. The towers are ready to fall. We have to move you."  
"Back to Camp David? What about Cathy?"  
"Clark and Chavez are down there, we think that they're trying to help her."  
  
  
  
  
9:26 am:  
It was on all the channels. The first thing he saw was the image of the first plane hitting the Towers.  
"Oh, shit!" He grabbed the phone, and punched in Tom's number.  
"Slus, what the fuck is going on?" On the other end, Officer Thomas Slus frowned.  
"What are you talking about?"  
"Jesus man, turn on your TV." Tom did, and was shocked by what he saw.   
"Oh, man..."  
"Yeah, I know. Was there anything going on down there?" Lyka' s partner sighed .  
"Shit, Terr, the First Lady was supposed to be there."  
"All right. Is there anyone out in the field. N.Y.P.D., FBI, C.I.A?" He heard his partner shuffle through paper.  
"Man, we're lucky the govs have to brief the N.Y.P.D. on this stuff. Hold on, let me check some more..." After about thirty seconds, Slus finally said something.  
"Okay, we got a Domingo Chavez and a John Clark out down there, I guess the CIA are still pissing their pants over the possibility of an Anthrax outbreak."  
"Let's go find em'".  
  
  
  
  
9:31 am:  
Clark saw the two men running up to him, and feared that they were like all the others, running up to anyone in suit and sunglasses, and asking him and Chavez if their beloved First Lady was all right. Then he noticed that the two men running in a frantic pace here holding badges.  
"Who are you?"  
"Terence Lyka, N.Y.P.D. Look, we don't have much time."  
" No shit, Sherlock. The thing's going to fall over."  
"What?... what about the First Lady?"  
" I don't know yet. My partners checking out on that. We can't head over there."  
" We have to. Lots of people will need help."  
"You think I don't know that? I have to call Jack Ryan."  
"Jack Ryan... the President?"  
"Don't talk like a fuckin' civilian, call every damned person you can to get down here!"  
"I already did!" John stared into his eyes, full of rage.  
" We need to evacuate as many people as possible. If you don't get everyone the hell away from here right now, they'll all die!"  
"Got it. I'll call em'!"  
"Hurry."  
  
  
9:32 am:  
Is she all right?", Jack persisted.  
"We don't know, all we know right know that a plane hit the tower. Jack, If she doesn't get out of there soon..." This came from Ezekiel Thames, the Vice-president of the United States. Then, his phone rang. On most occasions, someone would bring him the phone, but Zeke liked to carry around his own things.  
"Hello?"  
"Zeke?" In Manhattan, John T. Clark stared at his phone.  
"Yeah."  
"Okay, something shitty is doing on down here. The building's are spewing out lots of smoke, and the place is packed down here. Zeke, no one's getting out. Zeke, listen to me. If we're out of here in twenty minutes, everyone in the surrounding area will be killed." Ezekiel dropped the phone, and turned to the Secretary of Defense.  
"Sir, we have to do something. Everyone in Manhattan is going to be crushed. Before Tony Beranto could answer...  
"What?!!!" Jack yelled from across the room.  
  
  
9:37 am:  
Robert Jackson was watching CNN religiously. For the past twenty minutes he had been watching, hoping that Cathy, and all the others, had made it out. They were trying to evacuate.  
But they won't get em' all, Robby Jackson thought in his Pentagon office. Dammit! The worst part was, his best friend's could be dead right now. Also, it was confusing when he heard that Albert Morrison was dead. Jack's gonna be pissed, he thought. He had called Ryan, but he wasn't there. One of the mail boys walked into the room.  
"What in the hell is happening?"  
"Don't know. Here's the mail."  
"Thanks..." Robby turned off the television quickly, and stopped moving.  
"Do you hear that?"  
"No, I... hey, I do. It sounds like..." Rob jumped up again, and looked out the window, just in time to see a 747 crash into the other end of the building. Flames erupted from all sides, and the explosion swept through a large portion of the building. Bobby Jackson ran through the halls of the Pentagon, cursing at himself the whole way.  
  
  
9:43 am:  
Tom Steward was the first to tell her that she was probably going to die.  
"Ma'am... Cathy, listen. New York is in lock down, and gridlock. We might not make it out of here."  
"But..." Tears ran down her face. "My kids, what about..."  
"I'm sorry. We have a helicopter trying to get down here, and it might work. But, if those things fall", he pointed to the towers, "They'd send debris really far, and it'll endanger everyone in the area. Law inforcement won't back out, they have people to save. The mayor's trying to keep everything open, but when stuff like this happens, it hard to reverse."  
"No!!!"  
  
  
9:45 am:  
No one had actually ran into the White House before. Those who tried to get shot.   
As Rear Admiral Robert Jackson ran up to get, he showed his badge to the guard.  
"Sir, I can't let you in."  
"Yes, you can. First, run to the Pentagon, and help me look for survivors."  
"What..."  
"Don't ask. Let me talk to Ryan."  
" Let me in." The Marine let him pass.  
It took Robby a while to get past all the checkpoints, but when he did, he almost got shot . Bullets flew past Booy's head, and Jack turned from the TV.  
"Stop shooting!" They stopped immediatly. " Robby?" "It is on TV?"  
"What?"  
" You don't know...", he turned to the agents, "get everyone S.S. agent you can down there right now. I'm talking search and rescue. This is Code 7... that's right. Disaster. Move it!!!" Jack nodded approval, and the two were left along.  
"Jack, a..."  
"Plane? Are you serious?"  
"That's right. The kill count... could be in the hundreds."  
"It'll be in the thousands in NYC."  
"I know. We have to go there. Yes, in a helicopter. Call your chopper."  
  
  
  
9:47 am:  
At first, the driver wouldn't let them on. Jack and Zeke were ready for this.  
"We have to do something. You know that. Are you an American?"  
"Yeah."  
"Then move over. Mr. Jackson here will fly. Just calm down the S.S., make them tell everyone not to shoot us down."  
"Okay, Mr. President." The driver ran off, the helicopter flew off, agents of the United States Secret Service trying pointlessly to grab on. The helicopter flew as fast as it could.  
  
  
10:30 am:  
Ground zero was far worse than in the movies. It was obvious that the base of the Towers were buckling, and both of the skyscrapers were swaying with the wind. This made all three grimace.  
"Jack, we gotta get down there."   
"Rob, we just can't land on it's godammed roof, can we?" "He's right, Rob", Zeke joined the conversation.  
"But we have to land."  
"I know. We'll try. The three searched the surrounding area for a stable place to land.  
  
  
  
10: 33 am:  
They had found a clear area near the Twin Towers, and got out quickly.  
"Where do you think she is?" "Probably in a black van. We have to go fast." They hadn't looked at the skyscrapers yet.  
  
  
  
10:39 am:  
"It's exploding, I repeat, it's exploding!!! It'll fall any minute!!!" Clark and Chavez heard this all around them, and make sure that the two NYPD officers were clearing people out. Then they started to look for the First Lady.  
  
  
  
10: 41 am:  
"Who are you?" "CIA. We have to get the First Lady out of here."  
"The First Lady is going nowhere!" Clark and Chavez were getting impatient.  
"Look, we have to..." At this point, Officer Lyka came up to the group.  
"There's been an explosion from the airplane. I just lost 40 guys on my team. You have to get the First Lady out of here. There's not much hope for all the others! I saw a helicopter not far from here. Get going !"  
"Go , go! ", said Ding. They grabbed a startled Caroline Ryan, and ran north.  
  
  
  
10:42 am:  
No one knew how many terrorists there were. No one knew that a small group of them had taken over a nearby Greyhound bus, and planned to shoot anyone they saw. This was all the easier since New York was in a record-breaking gridlock. It was basically martial law. As they drove through Times Square, they opened fire.  
  
  
10:44 am:  
Thomas Slus heard the gunfire too late. The bus flew around the corner, and opened fire. He knew that First Lady Ryan was near, and he'd just got a call from his partner, Lyka, that the president and vice president were also near, looking for here, and those two CIA officers were trying to find them. He dodged on for cover, and called into his radio; "Get everyone out Times Square. No answer. That's when he saw two other buses coming towards him.  
  
  
  
10:54 am:  
"Cathy!"  
"Jack!" Ryan ran over, and scooped her up.   
"We have to go."  
"But everyone..."  
"I know, I know." Then he saw Clark."  
"John?"  
"Hey. Shot are being fired at Times Square. 12 police officers are down, at least twenty civilians. Explosions are blowing out of the Towers. we have to move, now. Where's the chopper?"  
Ryan, Zeke and Robby did not answer, just ran, and the CIA agents followed.  
  
  
  
10:57 am:  
The presidential helicopter pulled up as the first Tower, and the seven aboard turned their heads and they heard the screams of wounded and dying.  
"I'm the president, and I can't do anything, anything..." Jack was in total shock, and rambling to himself. He turned to the others, who did not answer him. That's when Jack turned, and heaved.   
  
  
  
Noon:  
Over half of the people that lived in Manhattan were dead, most from different causes: the airplanes landing on them, the explosions ripping through the streets, gunshots from the terrorists on ground, the Twin Towers falling on them. Fumes from the explosions. Among the dead were the 2500 plus people in the building, and thousands of others in the surrounding area. Among these were two police officers who had risked their lives for their country.  
  
  
  
12:05 pm:  
Ryan felt the complete opposite as the helicopter landed at the south lawn of the White House.  
First, the Secret Service agents came up, and searched the chopper, and pulled out Chavez, Clark and Jackson. They pulled out government identification, and were left alone. Then, they helped Cathy out and away, while the SecDef came up to the group.  
"Mr. President, did you go there?" Ryan nodded. "That was stupid! You could've gotten killed!" Jack could not help himself. He grabbed Beranto by the collar.  
" A lot of people are dead. Are my kids okay?!"  
" They... their vehicle was attacked by terrorists. They couldn't of made it out alive." Things were going to fast for Jack, and he suddenly felt dizzy. He collapsed onto the ground, his head landing on the soft, dewy morning grass.  
  
  
1:03 pm:  
When Jack woke, he saw the face of his teenage daughter, Sally, staring down at him. Because of this, he thought that he was dead.  
"He's waking up!", she yelled. This caused several USSS agents to all run into the bedroom. As they entered, the leader called on his radio to send SURGEON up.  
Ryan tried to speak, but couldn't. Then he realized what had happened today.  
He shot up, and wailed loudly enough for Sally to jump, and for the agents to run back in, this came with SURGEON.  
"Jack, Jack, it'll be okay." Jack's mental state was pretty lucid. He could only say a few words.  
"No, no it won't. Al, and the kids, all those people..." His eyes cleared, and he finally noticed Sally Ryan standing there, startled.  
"Sally! Sally, you're okay... are any of them dead." Tears ran from her eyes.  
"No, they're all find. Jack, you fainted..."  
"Cathy, I'm fine, I remember. What time is it?"  
"1:03." Damn, that's too late, Ryan thought.  
" Where's Zeke?"  
"Downstairs, doing an TV interview. They keep on bringing up the Raccoon City thing, though."  
"Okay. I want know exactly what happened today; everything. Then, I want to give a statement."  
"But..."  
"Come on, Cathy! I'm the godammed president, I have to tell the people something, don't I?"  
"You're right, but you have to talk to the kids first, they're worried sick." He smiled.  
" We're not dead... but thousands are. What the FUCK did I do wrong." Rage flowed through his whole body, and he twitched with rage.  
"Jack, you couldn't do anything. But you saved your family's lives, and mine. You did as much as you could."  
"I... I guess you're right.  
  
  
  
1:39 pm:  
Ryan and Thames met in the doorway to the Press Room.  
"You all right."  
" I don't know. I mean, so much has happened today." They had just finished the debriefing. " Fifteen hundred are dead. What was Pearl Harbor's death count."  
" Less than 3,000."  
"I'm going to kill the bastards who did this."  
  
  
  
Epilogue: The Interview  
  
  
  
1: 45 pm:  
Everyone expect for Caroline and Ezekiel had tried to talk him out of the interview, but President Jack Ryan was determined.  
He walked into the Press Room, and the TV cameras followed him. He shook hands with the female reporter, and sat down in the uncomfortable wooden chair.  
" Hello, Mr. President. Thank you for taking the time during this crisis to talk to our viewers."  
"No problem." He braced himself for the first question.  
" Mr. President, there have been reports that you flew to Manhattan, in order to save your family. Is this true?" Jack didn't know what to say, but decided that the truth was needed.  
"Yes, it is." The reporter was stunned. She knew what had happened over fifteen years ago, but this was hard to believe.  
"Okay. The Vice President has told us that terrorist rampaged through New York after the initial attacks. Were you shot at?"  
"No, I don't think they knew that we were there. As far as I know, they went after firefighters and law inforcement officers. The chief of the NYPD was killed, along with many others."  
" Mr. President, is your family all right?"  
"They are. was told some brave men" he couldn't talk about Clark and Chavez on TV- "went back to save my children."  
"Sir, we all know about fifteen years ago, when those terrorists..."  
"This is different", Ryan replied sharply."  
" Who so?" Jack's rage shined through as he answered.  
" What do you mean. Thousands upoopon thousands are dead, anywhere from 15,000 to 20000! Am I supposed to be happy! I'm the president, and there wasn't anything I could do."  
"One problem was that the mayor of New York, ex-President Edward Kealty, put the city under Martial Law..."  
" He is removed from his post as of tomorrow", Jack replied instantly.  
"Once again, the public would like to know about Osama..."  
" Than I pity the. By the way, good way to end an interview. Bye." Jack got up, and left the room.  
  
  
  
The End 


End file.
